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MAKAYLA
“Ican’t believe you’re ditching me for the hot neighbor,” I call from inside the closet.
“It’s the tattoos,” Heather deadpans, and I smile to myself.
“Why can’t you just invite him to come with us?”
“It’s our first date, Makayla,” she replies. “I don’t want to scare him off before I get to sample that di—”
Her words are cut off by a buzz from the main door downstairs.
Brows pinched, I move to the doorway of the closet as she rolls from my bed and stands. “I’ll get it.” She points to my simple red slip dress. “I like that one,” she adds as she hurries from the room.
A few minutes later, she returns carrying a shiny black box wrapped with a red satin ribbon. “Special delivery,” she singsongs as she sets the box on the bed.
“What is it?”
Heather shrugs, stepping back and tucking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts. “I have no idea. Whoever delivered it left it outside the main door.”
I frown, staring at the box. “That’s weird.” I flick my gaze to her. “Do you think it’s safe to open?”
She raises her brows. “Do you want me to do it?”
“No.” I wave her off and move to the bed. “You haven’t known me long enough to risk your life for me,” I joke.
Heather snorts. “Open the damn box, Makayla.”
Carefully, I remove the satin ribbon over the box and toss it on the bed before lifting the lid. A shiny black envelope—exactly like the one containing the Veil card—sits on top of red tissue paper. Picking up the envelope, I tear it open and pull out a card.
* * *
Wear this for me tonight. ~ X
“Who’s it from?”she asks.
“X.” I pass her the card, then pull back the tissue paper to find three articles of clothing.
“Ah. Your mystery man.”
“With very expensive taste.” I grin, holding up the black bandeau bra and matching thong.
“Damn.” She uses the card to fan her face dramatically.
I laugh at her theatrics as I lift a see-through black lace bodice dress. I turn to her with my brows raised, and she grins, nodding her approval.
“That is hot.” She nudges me toward the closet. “Go change.”
“Wait.” I pause at the door and turn back around to face her. “Is this normal?” I gesture to the dress.
She drops down on the edge of the bed and leans back on her hands. “I don’t know about normal, but I’m sure it’s not the first time.”
I twist my lips to the side. “Hmm.”
“Hurry up.” She waves a hand toward my closet. “You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
* * *
I pullup to the gate at exactly 8:45 p.m. and roll down my window. Grabbing my clutch from the passenger seat, I fish the card out before leaning through the open window. I swipe the card beside the keypad, and a moment later, there’s a buzz, and the gates slowly swing open.
